


The Dragon that Lives on the Mountain Side

by TheNarcolepticOne



Series: DailyUSUK [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blindness, Dragons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: Blindness is more than just a lack of seeing. USUK





	The Dragon that Lives on the Mountain Side

**Author's Note:**

> Heyooo... I forgot to post this.  
> That's all I have to say LOL  
> Hope you like it!

"Hey, Arthur,"

The voice is familiar. Arthur stirs. "What is it?"

"Have you ever heard of the story about the Dragon that Lives on the Mountain Side?"

It's in the middle of the evening time when Arthur opens his exhausted eyes; they are barely functioning to their full capacity. He doesn’t see a lot in the darkness, but the source of the voice is not difficult to find. The man who spoke rests on a stump nearby with the moonlight faintly shining. There’s enough light to find his face. He stares wide into nothing, but his eyes are filled with shimmering stars and constellations that never make it past the depths of blindness.

Arthur’s arms are outstretched as he yawns. The storyteller is back at a ridiculous hour, perhaps not even really knowing what time it is.

"You mean to tell me that you've woken me up to tell me  _another_ story?” muses Arthur.

"Why not? You fell asleep during the last one," the man, who Arthur finally remembers is named Alfred, pouts. His head turns in the direction of Arthur. "And anyway. That story wasn’t as cool."

"I'm up, I'm up." Arthur sits upright slowly, turning his gaze away to briefly look around before letting out a brief sigh. The crickets are still chirping.

"Ready yet?" asks Alfred impatiently. Arthur adjusts his seating, feeling the comfortable grass brush him as he stretches.

"If you're not sleepy,"

"Awesome," says Alfred cheekily before then turning his absent gaze at Arthur. It’s odd. Arthur feels that he’s being watched.

"Apparently, I've heard somewhere before that the Kingdom nearby used to be ruled by a King of a really impressive bloodline. He had a ridiculous amount of siblings or something."

"Mhmm,"

"Yeah," the man says, laughing. "Kinda random, I know. But yeah. Out of all his brothers and sisters, he was picked to be the King even though he wasn’t the oldest in his family. And this King was apparently really  _really_ good at sweet talking. He could trick you into thinking that you were his number one best friend when you’re really his worst enemy. He was apparently was so good that, hell, he could talk to animals if he wanted to! How crazy is that?"

Arthur yawns. "It’s not crazy enough to keep me awake, that's for sure."

The blonde crosses his arms in response, eyebrow raising. "You sure you even want me to tell the rest of this? Because I can guarantee you won't guess the ending."

Arthur lets himself lay on the grass again. It’s still dry. "If I do, will you let me sleep?"

"We'll see," the blind man snorts. " _Anyways_. So despite how really awesome this guy was at talking to people, he had a really bad craving for money. Like, it was so bad, this guy would literally get the taxes from the people just so that he could melt them and make new crowns and thrones for himself. And he loved his money so much that he hardly felt the need to leave his castle and explore the world. Which is pretty dumb, considering the guy literally could have just started spending his money instead of just making it into fancy jewelry."

"What's wrong with fancy jewelry?" Arthur snorts, interrupting. "I personally think that he's doing a good job for himself. Money circulates over and over; why not just end that cycle and let it turn into something beautiful?"

"I was getting there," he snaps back at Arthur. "The reason why I’m telling you this story is because you like money more than company, Art. At least let me get to the moral of the story."

Arthur says nothing to that, and he looks at the other lazily. The silence allows the story to continue.

"So, a lot of people in the Kingdom started to get upset with him. That he's stealing the livelihood of his own people so that he could flaunt his riches to no one but himself. But the King was smart. He tricked a witch by sending her messenger birds with sweet songs. Just so that he could get her on her side to scare the citizens quiet. The witch did a lot for him. She made loud booming explosives in the sky, magically turned children into frogs and sometimes scammed with cheap magic so she could get money to give to the King. It was then really obvious that the witch fell in love, and she devoted herself to making sure that the King would forever be happy.

“But, of course, the King didn't really give two shits about that witch at all. And soon, it was the one witch against an entire community of people wanting to burn her at the stake. One night, she was overwhelmed, captured and sent to be burned for her wicked deeds. While this was happening, the King just watched from the forest, safely away from all the citizens."

Alfred takes a minute to pause and catch his breath. Arthur frowns.

"And then?"

"She dies," Alfred yawned in the midst of saying that. "But not before making sure that she could continue with her revenge. She apparently met eyes with the King, but not before shouting,”

The man clears his throat as he begins his dramatic acting, arms out and voice operatic. Arthur winces at the horrific imitation of an accent.

“You _serpent!”_

As the sentence concludes, the man raises his hands and makes his fingers wiggle as he makes the effect of magic sounds from his ‘Oo’s’. He eventually can't help but laugh at that part. Arthur doesn’t laugh.

"Sorry, sorry.” Alfred apologizes. “I'm getting carried away.”

"And then what?"

The blind man blinked before smiling, proud of himself for finally picking an interesting story.

"She dies,” he repeats again. "And when she died, a huge dragon broke through the forest, roaring and blowing fire as it flew up into the mountain tops. The dragon ate the King and everyone is happy again."

Arthur snorts.

"Well. I’ll admit it. I've heard this story before."

"You're lying!" The man says in disbelief as he gives a shocked expression. This was a relatively new one.

Arthur only chuckles.

“I know this story,” he repeats. “And you told the ending wrong.”

“I did?” It’s Alfred’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean? The Bad King dies and it’s a ‘everyone lived happily ever after’. Right?”

“Not exactly.”

Arthur finally gets the energy, getting his feet to move. He stands up on all fours with his massive size towering over the man sitting on the stump. His scales are as green as the darkest jungle but only glistened when the moon’s beam hit them the right angles. Arthur’s wings are folded neatly on his dorsal and his eyes are yellow in pigment. Serpent-like.

“And what exactly is the ending, Mister know it all?” Alfred grumbles. “If he didn’t die, where is he?”

Alfred’s breath hitches when Arthur exhales sharply over his head. It’s a lot of warm wind that tosses his hair. Alfred gently reaches out, eyes growing into wide and dull dinner plates

“Arthur?”

Arthur puts his snout right up into Alfred’s lap, where he could feel for himself.

It’s entirely unexpected, and Alfred nearly falls off the stump. Ever since he started passing through the mountain ranges, Alfred had only known Arthur as a voice that liked to accompany him until he made it out of the pass and back again.

And now… the idea of a random man living out in the middle of the wilderness didn’t seem so far-fetched at all. At least when it came to dragons, Alfred thinks.   
“... you’re... “

“King Arthur,” the dragon finishes, yawning again. Arthur grins, teeth bared. Alfred feels it when he exhales again. “...now I can sleep.”

“Haha,” Alfred feels himself unable to move. But he’s not too afraid, though. Arthur eventually lets off and goes back to settle in the grass to rest again.

“You thought you’d know a guy,” Alfred grumbles, standing with a stick in hand as he shuffles all the way back to town. Would anyone believe what a blind man and a part-time storyteller would say? Alfred doesn’t know the answer. He only knows that he would probably have to think of something even more extraordinary a tale the next time he passes the mountains.

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally posted April 20, 2018_


End file.
